


walking in the city

by romajstorovic



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 06:09:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romajstorovic/pseuds/romajstorovic
Summary: If you were to set foot in Vesuvia, you would be greeted by stone houses with thatched roofs. Only if you were very high up would you notice the pattern woven into the straw, and only if you were a witch would you realise they are symbols of protection.





	walking in the city

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy, we do love English class. I panicked and wrote this- have fun.

If you were to set foot in Vesuvia, you would be greeted by stone houses with thatched roofs. Only if you were very high up would you notice the pattern woven into the straw, and only if you were a witch would you realise they are symbols of protection.

Looking down from the roof, you'd see that the door of the house is a faded green, perhaps jade, once upon a time. Now, the paint peels away from the door, no longer young enough to hold on. The signs of the city's age would be all around you, if only you looked for them.

If you walked along the loneliest road, you'd discover a tavern. The Raven by name, it is usually open at all hours, but tonight it is silent. The patrons of the Raven arear rowdy by, all of them friends, and tonight is the night one of their own is to be unjustly hung for a crime he did not commit.

If you were smart, you'd avoid the town centre.

Walking away from the tavern, you would see a fence bridging a gap in a wall. A torn piece of cloth, worn from the wind, flaps forlornly in the winter breeze. It's come off a cloak similar to your own, but marks someone's terrified escape. From what, exactly, you would have to guess.

The air is full of the Arcane. The Hanged Man watches you, silently judging. You wouldn't notice him, nor remember what he represents- sacrifice, indecision, and letting go. You wouldn't see him rise, disinterested in you, before leaving to seek the warmth of the Magician's fiery embrace. Yet you'd wonder why the stolen tarot deck in your pocket seemed to vibrate with excitement and fear.

But you won't set foot in the city. You won't be greeted by stone houses with thatched roofs and peeling doors. You won't see the deserted tavern, or watch as the Hanged Man watches a man be hanged, because these are the echoes of a time long since dead, and both you and the world have moved on.


End file.
